


Christmas Eve: The Other Stories

by 2yuu



Category: Trans-Siberian Orchestra
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2yuu/pseuds/2yuu
Summary: A collection of short stories inspired by the works of Trans-Siberian Orchestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Dreams of Candlelight on a Winter's Night

I stood alone in the cold winter night, pulling my already-tight jacket closer to my skin. I knew I should have worn something warmer than a hoodie but I didn’t have time to find my winter coat.  
I tapped my foot rapidly, attempting to check my watch while still keeping my hoodie bundled up. However, just as I was about to, I heard the familiar footsteps of the person I was waiting for.   
At least, so I thought. Instead, the woman next to me ran to catch up to her oncoming friend, leaving me truly alone. I let out the breath I was holding, disappointed that I’d be spending yet another Christmas Eve – and probably Christmas day – alone. 

The freshly-fallen snow crunched softly under my feet as I made my way towards my yearly spot. It really wasn’t much; one year on Christmas I had found a forest on the outskirts of town and set up candles in a small clearing, lighting them all one by one with wishes for the new year. Yeah, that sounds kind of like I’m a witch, but so what? Witches are cool.   
I started pulling out my candles and placing them in their spots. One on a low-hanging branch that was twisted just right, one on an even lower stone, another on the top of a fully grown tree that hadn’t managed to grow more than three feet tall. This year I had brought along tealights, which I lit and placed in random spots without any apparent rhyme or reason. The final candle was placed on a stump in the direct center of the clearing. Last placed, first lit.   
I followed the ritual that I had done every year, lighting every candle in a clockwise fashion and starting from the north. Under my breath, I whispered for what I wished for. Most were traditional things – stuff like happiness, peace with my family – but then another one came to mind, one that I hadn’t thought of before.   
“Alright,” I sighed, suddenly feeling like I was being watched, “I want someone who understands me.” I spoke as I lit the last candle, a small smile on my face.   
Almost immediately after, the feeling of being watched intensified and the snow started falling harder. A shiver ran down my spine and I tried to bundle my hoodie together, but failed.   
The sound of footsteps in the snow interrupted my thought process. I froze up, scared that someone had found my spot. This was quickly shown to be wrong, though. The thing that stepped out of the shadows was very much not human. A chill ran down my spine when the creature stepped out of the shadows. It had a deer body and neck but its head was replaced by a skull of the creature it may have formerly been.   
I cautiously stepped back, attempting to see if I could make an escape. As I did so, the creature stepped forward before lowering its head in what looked to be a bow. I sighed in relief, it didn’t seem like this creature was going to attempt to gore me with its antlers after all. I made hesitant steps over towards it, amazed at how close it was letting me get until I was within reach of it.   
“Your wish has been heard, young one. May your wine glass stay full and your hearth warm.” It spoke, raising its head to my hand before turning and running back into the woods. I simply stood there, mouth agape as I tried to process what had just happened.   
“Did…that deer speak to me?” I asked no one in particular. Unsettled – and yet, strangely at peace – I began to pack up, putting what remained of the candles back in my bag before heading back to my apartment.  
When I reached my door, I discovered a small, brown package waiting for me on my welcome mat. Curious, I took it inside. Looking back, that could have been a really stupid move on my part. After all, I hadn’t ordered anything and I had no friends that would have sent me a Yuletide gift.   
Regardless, I opened it. Inside the box were a few butter cookies, a small jar of cranberry jam, and what appeared to be a pair of hand-knit gloves. I put them on without hesitation. They fit, well, like a glove! Since I wasn’t going anywhere, I took them off and set them aside, opting to take the cookies and jam instead. 

Maybe this year I wouldn’t be quite as lonely on Christmas.


	2. Old City Bar

The snowstorm raged outside the bar that I had begun to consider to be a home base of sorts as I slowly drank the whiskey – a bitter, burning liquid that I had come to use as somewhat of a moat to distance myself from the hardships of life. Certainly many if they knew of my poor habit, would tell me that it would wind up killing me, but that was something that I had come to terms with long ago.

I had begun to consider myself something of a nomad after so many years of not having a solid place to call my home. Eviction was a horrible thing to do to someone who was just struggling to make ends meet, but I suppose everything happens for a reason. Even if it is a twisted way of doing things. I didn’t hate my life of constant travel, though having a roof over my head would be preferable to having to shelter under a highway bridge to keep from the cold and wet.

My gaze drifted over to the window at the front of the bar as I continued idly sipping at my drink. The snow had slowed since I had arrived, but the storm was showing no signs of stopping. _Great._ I thought, _I_ _have_ _to walk in the snow._ I would have grumbled this aloud to myself were it not for the fact that the bartender had most likely had enough of my complaints. Instead, I continued watching the storm quietly.

Something was...strange, though. There was someone across the street standing at the broken payphone. I had half a mind to go and tell them that the phone hadn’t been in service for years and to try and find one somewhere downtown. I would have, were it not for the fact that I didn’t quite like the idea of getting out of my seat and walking into the cold sooner than I needed to. Instead I downed the rest of my drink, scolding myself for not having saved more change to get another glass.

The stranger across the street stared a bit at the sky before looking directly at the bar. It was then that I noticed that this wasn’t someone I knew. They were far, _far_ too young for the “nomadic” lifestyle. At least, normally they would be. These days it felt like anyone could be homeless.

“Poor kid,” I muttered under my breath, silently cursing my empty glass.

“Don’t worry too much about her,” someone chimed in. Startled, I looked up from my reflection in the bottom of a glass. Guess that when I wasn’t looking, someone had sat down across from me.

To say that he looked out of place at this dump of a bar would be the understatement of a century. This man appeared to be in his early to mid thirties, a clean navy hoodie on over a flannel shirt and his long, dark brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail. No offense to him at all, but he looked like he belonged at one of those fancy little cafes in the busier part of town.

This, however, did not change the fact that what he said was idiotic.

“Don’t worry? Pardon me, young man, but that’s a _kid_ standing alone in the snow,” I held myself back from berating him further as he placed a crisp ten dollar note on the table.

The smile on his face was gentle, whereas my expression could only be described as baffled. “What’s this for?”

“Well that should be enough to refill your glass for now, correct?”   
“Uh, sure.” I tucked the note into my coat pocket, not bothering to grab my wallet. “Thanks-”

When I looked back up, the man I had spoken to was gone like he had never been there. I quickly reached into my pocket, only to find that the dollar was still firmly nestled in my pocket, now crumpled up from the force of me shoving it in. I let out a resigned sigh and ordered myself another glass, taking my seat by the window once more.

This time, the kid wasn’t alone. There was a much younger child speaking to the girl now and from the expression on the girl, it was a pretty emotionally charged one. The girl had since begun crying and the younger child looked like they were trying to get her to calm down, to no avail.

Something changed the girl’s disposition though, causing her to look between the bar and the child before shaking her head. Guess the kid made up its mind, though, because before the young girl could get the younger child to stop, they were already across the street.

I didn’t expect the kid to do it, but before any of us in the bar knew it, the front door was being pushed open by the child, who had the same level of confidence as any of the regulars.

And then, with that same confidence, he walked up to the bartender and asked “I’m sorry, sir, but did you know that there’s someone lost just across the street? I...I think she needs help.”

The bartender peered over the bar, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the child before gazing out across the street to the girl next to the payphone. He sighed, put down his shaker and leaned on the bar, using his elbow as a support. “Not that I care, kid, but how would you know this?”

“I noticed,” the child began, “that if one could be home...well they’d already be there.”

Another sigh and the bartender shook his head. “Can’t argue with that,” I could hear him grumble under his breath. He stepped out from behind the bar, ready to let the child lead.

Now something that may interest you, is that while the bartender didn’t really like to let anyone know he cared, he always seemed to look out for people in the littlest of ways that could always just be passed off as “what I was supposed to do.” Tonight, though. Tonight he thought he could be sneaky. But I saw him grab every single dollar from that cash register before he stepped out.

Cash in hand, the bartender walked across the street. I and a few others watched intently as they started to speak. Before long he pulled out his cell phone, made a somewhat quick phone call, and then the most unrealistic thing of the entire night happened.

A taxi cab showed up in less than five minutes.

Unfortunately, this means we lost sight of them. Anyone else who was watching had groaned before going back to their drinks.

But when the cab pulled away, his hands were empty of the cash and there was no girl to be seen. I stared in amazement as he begun to walk back to the bar, a small, but noticeable smile on his face.

The smile quickly dropped a bit back to a confused scowl as he looked for the child that had led him outside in the first place. But just like the man I had spoken to earlier, he had left with no trace behind other than a good deed done.

Shrugging, the bartender hurriedly walked inside, taking off his hat that he had been wearing all night as he entered. “Fellas,” he announced, his voice loud and clear enough to be heard through the whole bar, “drinks are on the house tonight.”

A delighted cheer tore through the bar as the mood instantly lifted.

Anyone who hears this story might tell you that some lost school kid wandered in on some bums in the hole where they hid. But listen to me, those folks weren’t there, so they couldn’t have seen what happened that night. For after all the parties calmed down and the people who had homes to return to did so, the bartender invited us all to stay. Telling us to sleep on benches and, if need be, he could make the quick drive to his house and pick up some extra blankets.

You may ask, why? Why on that night did none of us attempt to find shelter for the night under some highway bridge or under a dumpster leaned up against a building. Well that question has an easy answer. Because, on that night of all nights...we had a home.

And that night, as I drifted off to sleep on my makeshift bed set up in a booth at the bar, I noticed a bright light shining into the bar. Quietly, I stood up as to not make the floorboards below me creak. What I saw out in the middle of the street was a sight to behold.

There, in the middle of the snow-covered street, under the streetlight, stood the same exact man who had given me the ten dollars. And with a wink and a touch of a finger to his lips, the man vanished, leaving behind what looked to be a note.

Without hesitation, I opened the door and ran out to where the paper was. I cared not for the snow crunching under my worn soles anymore.

The paper was old, weathered as though he had been carrying it for ages. The edges were frayed and the paper itself was stained a pale tan. And the message on it? Easy. I still carry it with me to this day.

_“Merry Christmas.”_


End file.
